iBeware the Bear
by lifeisveryshortsoami
Summary: "Really? How sure are you that I like Fredweird?" "One hundred percent sure...Why?" "Let's make a little bet." Seddie moments in the week leading up to iOMG.


SUPER LONG ONE-SHOT! Sorry for the length, guys. I didn't intend for the story to be this long. I just...I suck at writing multi-chapter stories. I get bored too quickly and...yeah. It's not a pretty sight. I think I'll stick to one-shot seddie stories from now on.

Anyway, I know this story may SEEM long, but I don't think it's as long as it looks. It walks you through the week of the lock-in in iOMG. I know, I know, there are a million stories out there about iOMG. Well, this one has a different storyline. What is that storyline, you may be asking? Basically Sam and Brad make a bet involving a certain bear costume from an old episode called iPie...

I tried to write in first person point of view. From Sam's point of view. It was hard though because I have no idea what Sam was really thinking that week since DAN hasn't told us yet when she really fell in love with Freddie. So this probably won't happen on the show. But I had a lot of fun writing it!

Assuming iCarly web casts take place on Fridays (which is when Nick updates the website), the scene from iOMG where Sam asks if she can work with Freddie and Brad takes place on a Friday. My story starts there, then goes through the rest of that week. Let me know if you get confused!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>iBeware the Bear<strong>

_Friday_

"Can I help with the project or what?" I asked, doing my best to remain patient. Was it really so hard to believe I wanted to work with Fredweird and Brad? It was better than teaming up with Carly, which was my original plan. Having two partners instead of one meant I would have to do even less work than I'd thought.

Unable to find any evidence I was anyone other than myself (how was squeezing my shoulder or sniffing my hair supposed to prove I was me anyway?), Freddie shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, you can help."

"I'll bring the fudge," Brad offered, which was his way of letting everyone know he was alright with me joining the group.

"I'll bring my mouth!" I declared proudly.

Sending a final wave to Carly, who for some reason was smiling suggestively, I followed the two boys out of the iCarly studio. They talked for the duration of our walk, going on and on about the finer points of Mood Face and exactly what they planned on doing to make sure the application would work. Since they were trying to fill me in on what I'd missed so far, I tried listening to their discussion. I even asked a few questions. By the time we entered Freddie's room though, my mind was far from computers.

The same thing happened during school hours. I would tune in at the beginning of a class, but then, as the teacher droned on, my attention span wavered and I found my eyelids closing or my hands passing notes or salvia falling from my lips as I dreamed about fried chicken. Maybe there was a glitch somewhere in my brain that kept me from concentrating on one thing for longer than five minutes.

Inside Freddie's room, I didn't have any of the distractions that kept me busy at Ridgeway. There was no desk to rest my head on and take a snooze. I had no paper to doodle on. All I could do was watch two geeks as they fawned over Freddie's computer, the nub I knew best sitting in the comfortable computer chair while Brad stood behind him. A chair waited on the side of Freddie Brad wasn't standing on and I had a feeling he hadn't taken it so I could.

'_That was chivalrous of him,' _I thought, nodding my head in approval. _'Mama likes boys who put her above themselves. Too bad I have no intention of being so close to Freddork.'_

One wall of Freddie's room jutted out in front of another, creating a small tunnel on the farthest side. His computer desk was pressed against the wall, easily allowing whomever was playing at the computer to see if someone wandered into the tunnel. Freddie watched, his eyes narrowed, as I did just that.

"Sam," he called in a warning voice. "I thought you were going to help us with our project?"

"I am helping," I insisted.

"How can you help if you're all the way over there-,"

He shut up the moment I started laughing. I heard his chair squeak as he jumped to his feet, running frantically to me with fear in his eyes. He probably thought I'd found his secret shrine to Carly or something equally embarrassing.

Which, in a way, I guess I had.

Because when Freddie stopped, his jaw dropping in surprise, he found me standing outside his closet. The door was open wide, a clear indicator I'd been poking my nose where it didn't belong, but I wasn't afraid of getting caught. Fredlumps had gotten stronger over the years, but there was no way he'd be able to hurt me.

Dangling in my hand was a very brown and very fuzzy outfit that Freddie recognized right away.

It was his bear costume.

The same bear costume he wore when trying to make Baby Stephanie laugh and was stupid enough to keep on after leaving his apartment. Freddie had many strange outfits I mocked over the years, but the bear was one I would never forget. After all, I'd gotten to hit him while he wore it - two times, actually. Carly and I assumed he got rid of the costume after that day. Apparently we were wrong.

"Why," I asked, barely able to speak through my laughter, "Do you still have this?"

"The store refused to take it back after Stephanie threw up on it," Freddie explained, his face flushing as he launched toward me, ripping the hanger from my fingers. I let him take it. I had no idea why he wanted to keep the ragged looking thing, but who was I to take it from him? "Look, Puckett, if you came over tonight just to rag on me, then you might as well leave. Brad and I have a lot of work to do and the last thing we need is you getting in the-,"

"Alright," I cut him off, wiping the smile from my lips. "Why don't we get on with the project?"

To prove I was serious, I joined Brad, who was still standing next to the computer, waiting patiently for Freddie to return. When Benson watched me, his eyebrows raised curiously like he couldn't believe I was the one who suggested getting to work, I plopped into the chair beside his. He continued staring until I patted the cushion of his chair invitingly, which somehow woke him from his trance. He sat and two seconds later, he and Brad went on with their Geek Talk like I had never interrupted them.

Making fun of Freddie was my favorite pastime. Calling him names, beating him up, teaching him new 'games' my mom taught me…It didn't matter to me what form of abuse I used. Freddie was an easy target. The boy had no backbone whatsoever and, on the rare occasions he did fight back, I easily overtook him. Over the years, my taunting grew so bad, I could barely handle being in the same room as Freddie without saying something insulting.

I wasn't going to insult Freddie again until the project was complete. He was nice enough to let me join his group, which pretty much guaranteed I would get my first A of the year. The least I could do was try my best to be nice…

…No matter how much it hurt me to do so. Every time I wanted to say something rude, I bit my tongue. A few times I reached my arm out to punch him, realized what I was doing before my fist connected with his shoulder, and pretended I was pointing something out on the computer's screen instead. When my foot raised to kick his shin, I lowered it back to the floor.

It was nearly midnight when Mrs. Benson knocked on Freddie's door, wanting to know why he was still awake. She freaked out upon seeing me, screaming something about no girls being allowed in Freddie's room past ten o'clock, especially when the door was shut. I really bit down hard on my tongue to avoid the comment begging to leave my lips.

"Mom," Freddie complained, rolling his eyes. "It's just Sam."

_Just Sam. _Something about hearing Freddie say those words left me with a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. It shouldn't bother me that he thought of me as 'Just Sam', someone who his mom didn't have to worry about him locking himself in his room with because there wasn't the slightest chance of anything romantic happening. That was the way Freddie was supposed to see me: as his abrasive best frienemy. Nothing more, nothing less.

I was just Sam, after all.

Nonetheless, I excused myself quickly. Suddenly, the air felt too hot. I wanted - no, I needed - to get out of the room, out of the Benson apartment altogether. I'd been there too long already. Spending too much time with Fredweird was a dangerous thing to do.

I never saw the smile on Brad's face as he watched me sprint from the room.

* * *

><p><em>Saturday<em>

"Get off my foot, Benson!"

"I would if I could, Puckett. Unfortunately, I can't move until you remove your leg from my stomach!"

"My leg isn't on your stomach!"

"Well, whatever body piece you have there is keeping me from moving. Would you mind switching positions soon? I think I'm starting to bruise."

Fredward Benson and I were tangled together, our limbs so jumbled up that I had no idea which way was up and which way was down. Our current position was partly my fault - I was the one who suggested we take a break from Mood Face and play Twister - but Benson was the one who challenged me.

"You can't play Twister with three people," he had stated. "We're bigger than we were when we were younger. I doubt all three of us would even fit on the mat!"

Since Freddie said the magic words ("You CAN'T play Twister), I had to prove him wrong. He and Brad stood to the side while I pushed furniture around in the Benson's living room, leaving a spot big enough for the Twister mat on the floor. I was ready to play and I grabbed Freddie's arm, dragging him onto the mat. Brad shook his head before I could force him to play. He agreed to be tell us what limb to put on which color instead.

Freddie was right. There was no way we could have played if Brad joined us on the mat. We barely had enough room for the two of us, which was weird since I was one of the shortest girls at Ridgeway and it wasn't like Freddie had huge muscle-ly limbs or anything.

'_His biceps didn't look half bad the other day when we arm-wrestled,' _a tiny voice in the back of my mind reminded me. _'He has gotten stronger since we first started making iCarly. In fact, he even looks kind of…'_

My blonde curls bounced as I shook my head, trying to get rid of my thoughts. Why was I, Sam Puckett, thinking about Freddie Benson's biceps? I hated him!

"Sam!" Freddie exclaimed, drawing my attention back to the game. "Stop swinging your hair!"

I may have been flipped around due to Brad's orders on where to place my hands and feet, but I could see the ceiling above me, which meant my head was hanging upside down. Judging by how close Freddie sounded, his head was just below mine. If my guess was right, my hair was rubbing against his face.

"Why should I?" I demanded before switching to my baby voice. "Is wittle Freddie scared he's going to sneeze?"

"Yes!" Freddie shouted back. "If I sneeze, I'll fall!"

"The first one to fall loses," I reminded him.

"I know," he said angrily. "That's why it would be great if you would stop swinging your hair!"

I considered listening to his request, but truthfully, I was getting sick of playing Twister. The sooner Freddie lost (a Puckett never loses), the sooner I could raid his fridge and steal all the ice. I was flexible, but after staying entwined for so long, my back was seriously hurting.

So, I did the only thing I could think of that would force Freddie to forfeit: I swung my head from side to side, forcing my hair to brush against him.

"Maybe it's time to end the game," Brad suggested. "You guys could call it a draw…"

"NO WAY!" Freddie and I shouted together.

I couldn't see Brad to confirm anything, but his tone of voice suggested he thought Freddie and I were idiots for continuing the game. Things only got worse as he called out more orders. To retaliate my hair move, Freddie did everything possible to trick me into falling, including deliberately placing his hand on mine and trying to push it just enough to make me lose my balance. Every time he came up with a new attack, I had to think of something, too. No way was I going to let him beat me!

Finally, when my body was twisted to the point I was positive I couldn't comply to anything Brad said, I bumped Freddie with my waist. He wobbled for a moment, trying his best to keep his balance, but I gave another push, this one harder than the first. He tumbled to the floor-

-But not before grabbing my ponytail, successfully pulling me down with him.

We landed in a heap, my back hitting the carpet with a loud _thud_. My eyes closed as I braced for the impact because, the moment my fall was over, another body landed on top of mine.

Fredward Benson was on top of me.

_And his brown eyes were locking with my blue ones, leaving me breathless._

"Guys?" Brad called nervously. "Are you both alright?"

Just like that, the moment ended. My hands remembered they weren't supposed to be resting on Freddie's chest. Instead, they gave a huge shove, forcing the nub to roll away.

"Mama wins again!" I declared, finally climbing to my feet.

"You didn't win!" Freddie protested. "We both fell at the same time, Sam!"

"No, you hit the ground before I did." I nodded toward the only other person in the room. "Ask Brad if you don't believe me."

Brad held his hands in front of his chest defensively. "Don't get me involved. This is your fight, not mine."

Freddie and I agreed on a winner by the time I went home. Who ended up winning our little game of Twister?

Well, let me say that Mama walked out of Bushwell with a smirk while Benson sulked in his room, a pack of ice covering his black eye.

* * *

><p><em>Sunday<em>

I was late. I knew it not only because Freddie texted me, letting me know he and Brad were meeting up at three to work on Mood Face, but also because I could hear Benson's voice flowing from his room before I reached the open doorway. From what I overheard, he was going on and on about some technical stuff Brad probably didn't even care about.

"It should be pretty easy," Brad was saying when I waltzed in, a can of Peppy Cola in my hand and a backpack slung over my shoulder. "We have the procedure written out and all the supplies we should need. We could skip working on it for the rest of the week and probably finish it up Saturday at the lock-in without a problem."

"That's what I like to hear!" I said, rising my beverage in the air joyfully. "The less work we have to, the more I like this project."

Noticing my presence, Freddie turned to face me, folding his arms over his chest. If he was trying to look tough, it wasn't working. Even after puberty, he was still too much of a boy to appear menacing.

"Sam." He said my name as though I was some kind of demon. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"You were supposed to be born with a handsome face," I shot back.

Freddie didn't even flinch.

"Why are you late?" he wanted to know. "You asked to help with this project, remember? If you're going to be part of our group, you need to actually work."

"Calm down," I sighed, setting my backpack on his bed. "I was going to be on time, but when I tried to leave, my mom started yelling at me about how I needed to take Frothy with me because he hasn't found a job yet."

"Frothy?" Brad repeated.

I could have told him Frothy was my rabid pet cat, but I smiled instead, unzipping my backpack. A furry head poked out, followed by a four paws, a long lanky body, and a fluffy tail. Frothy walked the length of Freddie's bed, his ears laid back as he took in his new surroundings.

"Great looking cat, Sam," Brad complimented.

"You think that now," Freddie scoffed. "He hasn't tried attacking you yet!"

"He won't attack Brad!" I protested.

"Why not? He attacked me the first time I came to your house."

"Yes, but that's because I trained him to go after nubs."

Freddie scowled, Brad pet Frothy like he hadn't heard the conversation taking place, and for the first time, I felt a pang of guilt. Freddie actually seemed upset I'd trained Frothy to go after him and not Brad. Was it possible that Fredward Benson had feelings?

'_Of course he has feelings,' _I reminded myself. _'He's been in love with Carly all his life. Love is a feeling. Besides, why should I care if he's upset Frothy attacked him? That was years ago. I'm sure he deserved it!'_

Maybe I'd work with Frothy and his guard-cat reflexes after going home. Maybe nubs weren't the best target after all.

* * *

><p><em>Monday<em>

"We're not working on Mood Face today?" I repeated, wanting to make sure I'd heard Freddie correctly.

"Nope," he confirmed. "Brad and I are taking a day off. We thought we might just head to the electronics store and look around for awhile."

"Can I come with you?"

The words left my mouth before I realized what I'd said. Freddie must have gone into shock; his end of the phone fell silent.

"You want to go to the electronics store," he said slowly. "…Why? I go there at least once a week and you never asked to come before."

Honestly, I had no idea why I asked to tag along. If I wanted out of my house, I could have gone to Carly's. She and Spencer were used to me stopping by nearly every day. They wouldn't mind a surprise visit.

For some reason though, I didn't want to go to the Shay's apartment. I wanted to hang out with Freddie.

'_And Brad,' _a tiny voice added. _'You want to hang out with Freddie and Brad. Why would you want to hang out alone with Freddie? He's a dork!'_

"Can I come or not?" I demanded, avoiding Freddie's question.

There was a short pause, and then-

"Meet us at the Groovy Smoothie in ten minutes," Freddie agreed. "I swear, Puckett, if this is just some kind of trick so you can torture me without Carly around to stop you, I'll…I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be good!"

I wasn't tricking him. Twelve minutes later, I met up with the boys at the predestined spot, gave both of them huge smiles, and spent the rest of the afternoon walking through a store with Brad at my side. We discussed the different computers and video cameras, but I couldn't help myself from glancing over my shoulder.

Freddie kept his distance, watching Brad and I as we made our way through the merchandise. I wanted him to join us instead of eying us like we were some kind of strange couple he felt the need to spy on.

I, Samantha Puckett, wanted Fredward Benson to spend time with me.

The world was coming to an end.

* * *

><p><em>Tuesday<em>

Freddie and Brad decided to hang out at Brad's house instead of Bushwell. I wasn't invited at first - Freddie tried telling me they were just going to play some video games and I'd be bored - but in the end, they gave me directions and said I was welcome to stop by.

I ended up stopping by.

The video game counsel was set up in Brad's basement, which was the perfect setting for me: dark, spidery, and creepy. Both boys sat on a couch when I arrived, shouting insults at each other as they blindly pressed buttons on their controllers, the screen reflecting off their faces due to all the other lights being off. Not wanting to get in the way, I stood off to the side, watching as they played-

-Until I noticed just how awful Freddie was doing.

"Hey!" Freddie shouted when I took the empty seat between him and Brad, stealing his controller. "I'm kind of in the middle of something!"

"Yeah," I agreed, refusing to hand the controller back. "You're in the middle of losing!"

"You're not going to do any better than him," Brad informed me, his eyes leaving the screen long enough to focus on me. "I'm a master at this game!"

"We'll see about that," I replied. "Mama plays to win."

For the rest of the night, Freddie and I remained a tag-team against Brad. When I got our score high enough there was no chance Freddie could ruin our opportunity of winning, I would hand him the controller. His turn usually only lasted for two or three minutes. That was how long it took him to lose all the points I'd just won.

Freddie and I had worked together before. When Carly was busy with Spencer or Gibby or with a boyfriend, Freddie and I were on our own for entertainment. Still, I felt a rush as we worked together to beat Brad. There was something about working with Freddie to defeat a common enemy, something about the way he high-fived me whenever he or I made a smart move or the, "Alright, Sam!" he shouted when I pulled us into the lead…

'_You're just having fun because of all the excitement,' _I told myself firmly. _'Who wouldn't get excited when playing a video game as intense as this one? It has nothing to do with Freddie. Nope, absolutely nothing to do with him.'_

I left Brad's house grumbling about how small his couch was. "Try to buy a bigger one next time. I would love to play without bumping elbows with you and Fredpus every two seconds."

My mouth said one thing, but as I shoved my hands in my pockets and began walking in the direction of my house, my mind stated something completely different. I didn't mind bumping elbows with Freddie. Not even the tiniest bit.

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday<em>

No one should ever use fudge as a distraction.

Brad did. He left the Shay's living room, claiming he was going to look around their kitchen. After snooping for a few moments, he called, "Carly, you have everything I need to make a batch of fudge. Mind if I use your oven?"

"Nope, not at all," Carly told him, flashing that too cute smile. "Go ahead and make all the fudge you want!"

With our projects drawing our attention, Carly, Freddie, and I were unable to work on iCarly every day after school. I didn't mind the lack of work time, but apparently Carly did. She asked Freddie and I to come over because, and I quote: "I miss you guys!" We obliged.

That was how I found myself slumped on the familiar couch, sprawled out so my legs rested over both Carly's and Freddie's laps. I was comfortable, too comfortable to move for hours, at least until Carly forced me to go home.

"Hey, Sam?" Brad called from the kitchen. "I know you love eating fudge, but how would you feel about helping me bake it?"

"Can I bake it from here?" I asked.

"No…but if you help me, I'll let you lick the spoon!"

There was no spoon licking for me. It turned out Brad didn't want my help baking fudge at all; he just wanted to get me away from Freddie and Carly.

"So," he started the moment I joined him in the kitchen, lowering his voice since my two best friends weren't far away. "When do you plan on telling Freddie you like him?"

I felt my jaw drop. Me, like Fredward Benson? Brad was very lucky he was the best fudge-maker I knew. Otherwise, I would have hurt him right then and there for suggesting something so stupid, so juvenile, so…

"Did you hit your head or something?" I demanded. "What makes you think I like Fredweird?"

Brad's face scrunched up thoughtfully. "You do like Freddie…Don't you?"

"No!"

I couldn't believe Brad thought I had a crush on Freddork. Where would he even come up with such a stupid idea? He knew me and he knew Freddie. He knew there was no way our personalities matched. I was tough, strong, and a Puckett. Freddie was a nub, a dork, and a geek. Why would I fall for someone like him?

"But I've seen the way you've acted toward him this week," Brad continued, refusing to give up his idea. "You volunteered to help with our project, you've barely said anything insulting to Freddie at all, you keep asking to hang with the two of us-,"

"And that means I like him?" I scoffed. "You need to stop reading so many romance novels, kid."

"I don't read romance novels!" Brad grabbed my arm when I turned to walk away. A very risky move, considering it was me he was talking to. "Sam, come on. There's no use hiding it. I can tell you like Freddie."

"Really?" I stepped closer to the iCarly intern. "How sure are you that I like Fredweird?"

"One hundred percent sure," Brad answered quickly. "Why?"

I felt myself smiling as I spoke my next line: "Let's make a little bet."

Freddie, Brad, and I decided that once we had the Mood Face app working, all three of us would give it a test-run. If Brad was so sure I liked Freddie, why shouldn't we let Mood Face be the final judge?

The bet was compromised. If I made it through my test run without a mood reading 'Crushing on Someone' or 'In Love', I would get a year's supply of fudge from Brad. If my reading somehow proved I had feelings for Freddie, which wouldn't happen no matter how sure Brad was about my current emotions, I would wear Freddie's stupid bear costume (which Brad found hilarious for some reason) on the next iCarly.

We shook hands after agreeing to the terms. It was official: the bet was on.

Brad was wrong. I wanted to work with him and Freddie because it would be easier than working alone with Carly. I was only nice to Freddie all week because he let me in the group and I wanted to repay him. There were no secret feelings for the dork.

None. At. All.

* * *

><p><em>Thursday<em>

I got to pick the movie. Freddie told me he and Brad were going to the theater, then, before I could even ask, he said, "We'll be there in half an hour. Brad said you get to choose what we see."

I hated the way Brad smirked at me all night long. When I went through my pockets, unable to find the money I swore I'd stolen from my mom right before leaving the house, Freddie paid for my ticket. I stared longingly at the concession stand as we walked by, knowing I couldn't get anything without my money. To my surprise, Freddie got in line and came back with the largest soda and popcorn bucket, both of which he handed to me. Brad thought he had the bet in the bag.

Just because Freddie was being extremely nice to me didn't mean I had secret feelings for him. He probably only bought me a ticket and food because he didn't want to wait for me to run all the way home to find more cash. It wasn't like he was trying to say he liked me or anything. To him, I was 'Just Sam'.

Although, once we were seated in theater seven and I had Brad and Freddie on either of my sides, Freddie leaned close to my ear one time, his voice deepening like he was trying to act like that stupid vampire who all the girls seemed to fall for.

"You know," he said, "I like hanging out with you when you act like this."

Despite myself, even though I knew I shouldn't care, I asked, "When I act like what?"

"I don't know," Freddie responded, shrugging while reaching a hand into my popcorn, taking a handful and plopping it into his mouth. "It's refreshing when you don't hurt me."

"You're lucky you let me in your group, Benson," I told him. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have to be nice to you. Wait until the lock-in is over. I'll be back to my old self the second this project is done."

"I can hardly wait," Freddie said, flashing a smile in my direction. "Like I said, it's refreshing when you don't hurt me. But that doesn't mean it's not weird without you constantly bagging on me."

I would never understand Freddie's mind. Part of him wanted me to be nice, but at the same time, he missed my obnoxious behavior. Oh well. Nice Sam would be gone soon and he'd be stuck with the one and only Sam Puckett.

Still, it was fun when the movie got scary and Freddie jumped in his seat, gripping his armrest until his fingers turned white. Rolling my eyes, I twined my fingers with his. I would never admit it, but I kind of liked the feeling I got when our hands met.

"You're such a baby, Freddison," I informed him.

"You can call me a baby all you want," Freddie replied, pulling our linked hands to cover his eyes. "You're never picking what movie we watch again!"

I tried to scoff, but a giggle left my mouth instead. Fredward Benson actually made me laugh.

Maybe I liked the nicer side of me just as much as he did.

* * *

><p><em>Friday<em>

**Carly wants to know if we're hanging out after the web-show tonight.**

_**Stop passing notes to me! Unlike you, I'm actually trying to pay attention.**_

**Why? Have you ever thought about my reasoning for not paying attention?**

_**You mean you have actual reasons for it? I thought you just enjoyed being lazy!**_

**Very funny, Benson. See, I choose not to pay attention during school because I might learn too much and my head will explode.**

…_**You do know it's impossible for your head to explode, right?**_

**Whatever. Are we hanging out with Carls tonight or not?**

_**There is no 'we'. You can hang out with Carly tonight if you want to. I'm going to bed early. I don't want to fall asleep at the lock-in tomorrow night.**_

**Why not? Afraid you'll end up with a picture on your forehead like Gibby did last year?**

_**I'm not having this conversation with you right now. **_

**Aww, come on, Benson! I'm a GREAT artist!**

_**Pass me another note and you're off the Mood Face project.**_

**I hate you.**

_**I hate you, too, Puckett.**_

* * *

><p><em>First iCarly Since Lock-In<em>

"Where is she?" Carly tapped her foot impatiently.

"You know how Sam is," Freddie tried calming her down. "I'm sure she'll be here soon."

"But the show starts in two minutes!" Carly exclaimed. "How am I supposed to do the show without a co-host?"

Both their heads turned to Brad, who had taken his now usual spot behind Freddie's computer, where he watched the show while Freddie filmed it, making sure there were no problems for the viewers. He gestured to himself nervously.

"You don't really want me to co-host, do you?" he asked. "I'm not good in front of cameras…"

"It will only be until Sam gets here," Freddie promised. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll do great," Carly assured him, grabbing Brad's arm and pulling him to join her before the camera. "Do your countdown, Freddie!"

"Alright, alright," Freddie said. "We're live in 5, 4, 3, 2..."

And just as Freddie hit the RECORD button, the studio's door flew open. Carly spun around, stating a simple, "Oh my gosh." Freddie almost dropped the camera, catching it just in time. Brad smiled brightly, waving me forward.

I was wearing Freddie's bear suit.

Want to know something cool? I didn't mind wearing the suit. Yes, it was hot and I was sweating like a pig by the end of the web cast and I'm sure a lot of fans got a kick out of seeing me wear it, but I didn't feel embarrassed at all. The moment the show ended and I pulled off the head, allowing my lungs to finally breathe, Freddie demanded to know how I got the costume.

I told him I picked the lock to his apartment.

A new fight broke out between us. Freddie said it wasn't fair that I'd broken into his apartment or that I stole his costume. Of course, since our project was turned in and I had no reason left to be nice to him, I shouted right back. Eventually, Carly and Brad inched their way out of the studio, leaving Freddie and I to finish our debate in peace.

There was no winner or loser to the fight that night. At the same second, Freddie and I got tired of shouting at each other. We decided kissing was a better way to spend our time.

Brad may have won the bet about my liking Freddie. Somehow, he was able to figure it out before I knew the truth myself. I had no idea when I fell for the dork or how it happened or why he felt the same way about me after everything I'd put him through over the years. All I knew was that whatever we had between us, whether we decided to date or hide our feelings, it would work out alright.

Somehow, things always worked out alright between Freddie and I. Even if one of us was stuck in a hideous bear suit.

* * *

><p>Thoughts? Let me know in a review!<p> 


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